


In a Cool Set of Sheets

by Michelle_My_Belle



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_My_Belle/pseuds/Michelle_My_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless Lizzington PWP, one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Cool Set of Sheets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HistoireEternelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoireEternelle/gifts).



> This happened after the episode aired last night and I honestly don't know where these ideas come from. Just for fun. If smut isn't your thing, please bypass this one. This is for my pal, HistoireEternelle. Also, thank you Lady Kerby for your help with the title!

The soft twilight of dawn filtered through the gauzy sheers barely covering the tall windows of their suite at the Palmyra. Any day of the week, you could easily find Raymond Reddington at a far more swank outpost, like le Sablotel but when hiding out, he figured the best place is where you would be least expected, in plain sight. A resort was so unlike him. Lizzie had snickered the night before as he unpacked the most hideous of loudly colored and patterned golf slacks and hung them with care in the closet. He sneered at her momentarily but continued to unpack: polo shirts, cleats, white knee socks, caps, pristine white leather gloves.

Fleeing the States after the bomb was the right decision and the way she curled into him, the way she sleepily ran her hand up the buttoned front of his shirt that night on his jet was confirmation they had left their two-year standoff on the ground behind them. ‘Good,’ he thought. ‘If we’re going to be in Cap d’Agde, in one of the most sensual and romantic places on earth, I’ll be damned if we’re going to be fighting like a’…and he let that thought hang. Better to not continue to define what was indefinable and as an experienced man of the world, once married even, he knew better than to pre-profile a woman and her feelings.

They made love their first night in France. The jet taxied at an abandoned airstrip and the moment they got to the first safe house in the pastoral regions, she made it her mission to conquer him. It wasn’t thorough, it didn’t last long, but it was achingly satisfying. Two years of waiting for the stars to finally collide for them was torturous, but she made it all worth it. Red was happy for the practice over the next few days as they traveled, bending to her whims for variety: slow and sensual, hard and fast, experimental. He mentally patted himself on the back for remembering to bring a few neckties.

Lizzie lay sleeping on her side facing the sea. He lay there, in their sumptuous hotel bed with his head propped in his hand and ran his hungry eyes down from the length of her neck and down her back to the soft curve of her ass, just barely visible beneath the flimsy summer sheets. Longing for that milky skin, he reached his hand out and trailed his fingers down, down until they slipped under the sheets and between her legs. She was warm and wet, even in her sleep. A throaty and sleepy moan escaped her lips, still unaware of the now nearly non-existent space between her dreams and reality. He moved closer, pressing his body flush against hers, fitting together in the best of places.

She was coming to quickly now and craned her head around to meet his lips in a sleepy kiss. He met her lips with full fire, he was very much awake and from what she could tell from the pressure on her lower back, fully ready. He slipped his other hand under her, reaching her breast and teasing it taut. She broke the kiss with a smack and a toss of her head back in ecstasy, but quickly collided with him again, tongues dancing, exquisite.

The hand at her core was working furiously now, driving her to an unknown cliff somewhere and begging, begging to be tumbled over. She threw her head back down on her pillow and leveraged herself further backward into his warmth. 

She turned her head to the side just enough to catch his eyes and in a slow, deliberate move, she brought her palm up to her mouth and dragged her tongue over the length. She quickly slid her hand behind her, seeking his stiff, morning erection and grasped him, working her hand back and forth, slowly at first but picking up speed as his breathing told her to.

It wasn’t enough for her. He could play with her all he wanted and it was very clear that he wanted, but her desire for him, to be filled by him, to be taken, was insatiable. In a few days’ time, she had learned the right moves and the right sounds that would tell him it was time.

He put his hand around hers and lifted it, and replaced his own, positioning himself at her entrance from behind. Slowly, he pushed into her, the sensation of her heat taking him over. She grasped at the sheets, at the nightstand, her pillow, everything she could get her hands into just to hold on. She bent herself forward, finding the best angle for them both and he began to rock into her, steadily, but clenching his jaw before too long as he could already tell, in this position, with her naked body curved and pressed into him, her perfect breast in his grasp, he wouldn’t be able, nor would he care to hang on long. 

He returned his finger to her warmth once again and circled and circled until he knew she was close. As he rubbed at just the right spot, his length was hitting the perfect spot, as well and after a moment in sync, 

She came.

And came undone.

The sight in and of itself would be enough to send him soaring, but her inner muscles clenching and flooding him with warmth and the speed he was now thrusting with had finally reached a climax. 

And he did. 

As he exhaled deeply, folding their fingers together and wrapping his arm around her tightly, she sighed and turned into him to him. Pressing her nose into his neck and taking a long hit on his scent, she whispered,

“Tu sens bon.”

The moment smacked of déjà vu, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He shouldn’t be so thrown that she knew some French; surely she had clandestine training that would have included knowledge of a few other languages. But why did she feel it necessary to tell him he smelled good? Finally, he nuzzled into her ear and whispered back,

“Toi aussi tu sens bon.”

If she smelled good to him, too, then she would perfume herself with the smell of sex and sweat all day long just to keep him coming back for more. After a few long moments of blissful silence, basking in the afterglow of wake up sex, she looked up at him smiling.

“You know, Red, when I order a wake-up call, I generally have something a little less risqué in mind, but this works.”


End file.
